


Just A Little Something

by alexenglish



Series: Tumblr Fic [11]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Genderqueer Character, Genderqueer Scott McCall, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Other, Pre-Slash, Shaving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-26
Updated: 2015-11-26
Packaged: 2018-05-03 12:20:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5290583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexenglish/pseuds/alexenglish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scott's clenching a pink razor in one hand, sitting on the edge of the tub, feet inside. There’s a new bottle of shaving cream, the floral scented kind, next to them on the rim. They’re in their briefs, and Stiles’ t-shirt and they look small, overwhelmed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just A Little Something

**Author's Note:**

  * For [katarama](https://archiveofourown.org/users/katarama/gifts).



> I just couldn't get the idea out of my head, Scott shaving their legs for the first time and Kat got really excited so there's this.

“I don’t think I can do this,” Scott says, in a small voice. Stiles has been alternating between pacing outside the door, chewing on his thumbnail, and pressing his ear to the door, trying to hear what’s going on. It’s been too quiet. 

He hates that Scott’s in the bathroom alone, wants to be in there too, but Scott asked him to stay in the hall so Stiles respects that. It doesn’t make him any less nervous. 

“Hey, it’s okay, it’s not a big deal,” Stiles says, coming to the door, so close he almost slams his nose. He doesn’t know why  _he’s_  so nervous about this. It’s not even about him, it’s about Scott.

“It is a big deal.”

“I mean, if you don’t feel like doing it, it’s not a big deal,” Stiles replies, resisting the urge to bang his head against the door. He’s kind of an idiot when it comes to this stuff. Scott tells him that’s it’s just ignorance, that it’ll get better, but he wishes he could stop fumbling over his words for like  _two seconds_  - “I know it’s a big deal like  _that_.”

“Will you just come in?” Scott asks, sighing. The question is barely out before Stiles is tugging open the door, and stumbling inside. Scott’s head jerks up, staring at him with wide eyes. Stiles shrugs. 

“Look, I know you said you don’t want me to watch but –”

“Will you just be quiet,” Scott asks. They’re clenching a pink razor in one hand, sitting on the edge of the tub, feet inside. There’s a new bottle of shaving cream, the floral scented kind, next to them on the rim. They’re in their briefs, and Stiles’ t-shirt and they look small, overwhelmed. 

Stiles stands there, quietly. He wants to ask them if there’s anything he can do, but he doesn’t. He stands and waits while they fidget. 

“Everyone will be able to see,” Scott says, in a quiet voice. “If I do this. People will ask questions.”

Stiles doesn’t know if he’s allowed to talk yet, but he blurts out, “they might not.” Scott’s face screws up in displeasure. Stiles keeps talking, “I mean, they might, but they might not? They might not notice at all. I mean, who’s looking at your legs?”

Stiles is looking at Scott’s legs, but Scott doesn’t need to know that.

“What if it fucks everything up?” Scott asks. “My head gets all weird when I’m dysphoric. What if this makes me  _more_  dysphoric?”

“Does it seem like it’s going to?” Stiles asks, seriously. “You’ve wanted to do this forever, you know? I think it will make things better.”

“What if it doesn’t?” 

“It’s just hair Scott, it grows back in a day,” Stiles says. He moves forward and presses his hand between Scott’s shoulder blades, steadying them. His own heartbeat is filling up his ears as he touches them, like it always does. “I can do it for you, if you can’t.”

“Really?” Scott asks, mouth dropping open in surprise. They blink at him, scrunching their face up, unsure. It’s their go-to expression when they don’t know what to do. It’s endearing. “I mean, you don’t have to –”

“You said you can’t, right?” Stiles asks, slipping the razor out of Scott’s fingers. “I can do it for you.”

Scott’s Adam’s apple bobs when they swallow. They look so vulnerable, eyes wide. There’s day-old eyeliner and mascara around their eyes, glitter still clinging to their cheeks from going out last night. It’s Sunday, the last day they get to dress how they want until they’re back to presenting masculine on Monday. Unless – 

“Let me do it for you,” Stiles says, gently. He stands, and strips off his jeans, turning the water on hot, letting it fall. It would be easier if they both got in the tub, but Stiles can’t ask that, tongue already too thick in his mouth.

“How are we going to do this?” Scott asks. It sounds like they might be laughing at Stiles as Stiles gets in the tub and tries to arrange their limbs. 

“By staying still,” Stiles says, tapping their legs. They get the hint and scoot to the corner so Stiles has more room. It’s hard to think about what he should be doing next when he’s crouched between Scott’s legs, brain going fuzzy with it. 

The bottom of the tub has warm water at the bottom now, but he keeps the bath unplugged so it doesn’t fill up. There’s just enough to clean the razor, and soak the bottom of his briefs. 

“Ready?” Stiles asks, and makes the mistake of looking up at Scott. They’re watching Stiles with an expression that’s close to awe on their face, mouth slack, eyes warm. There’s adoration there, a soft loving look that Stiles doesn’t think he’ll ever really deserve. They’re so beautiful, looking at them feels like Stiles took a donkey kick to the chest, heart pounding hard behind his rib cage.

“Yeah, of course,” Scott says, smiling softly. Stiles has to look away before he chokes on his own spit. 

It’s methodical from there, but it’s hard to ignore the way he’s shaking. He feels flush with excitement, fingers trembling when he touches Scott. Kneeling between Scott’s legs is so intimate, curled close to each other.

Stiles’ fingers trail Scott’s skin softly as he positions their leg, running through the hair on their leg, smiling slightly. The bathroom is so loud, holding all the sounds inside of it. The running water, Scott’s steady breathing, the thudding of Stiles’ heart. The shaving cream container compresses and spits into Stiles’ hand, shocking the steady rhythm of everything else. 

It smells like fake flowers as he smooths a thick layer over Scott’s calf. The foam bunches up as he drags the razor over Scott’s skin, hair coming off in clumps. It takes a couple of passes to get the skin smooth. It’s repetitive, and Stiles lets himself get lost in it. 

_Drag, rinse, drag, rinse._

He repositions Scott’s leg every so often so he can get the back of their calf. The angle gets awkward over the knee, and he’s doing a weird underhand motion to get at all the bits, but –

It almost feels like a religious experience. 

Like the whole world is holding its breath, only that’s not right. Stiles can hear breathing, his own and Scott’s. Maybe it’s like the whole world is breathing in time with them. 

He’s vaguely aware that he’s hard, notices as he starts on Scott’s thigh, but he’s not concerned with it. It’s a low trembling in his veins instead of urgent, like it usually is. There’s no concern with getting off, he just needs to keep going. 

He  _needs_  to. He knows if he stops, or talks, or moves too fast, everything will collapse. The air is so still around them, suspended animation. Stiles wants to stay here forever, running the razor over Scott’s skin. 

_Drag, rinse, drag, rinse._

When he’s done with Scott’s first leg, he scoops water up to wash the shaving cream residue off, smoothing his hands over Scott’s legs. 

It’s a baptism. 

The feeling of their skin is hypnotic, he starts dragging his finger tips over their thigh without realizing it. They don’t stop him, they don’t move. Their breathing is steady, filling up Stiles’ ears. They’re hard. 

Stiles is trying not to think about it. It should be weird, that they’re getting hard while he’s shaving their legs. That  _he’s_  getting hard while he’s shaving their legs, but it’s not. 

He moves to the next leg, shifting his weight to his other knee, noticing the way his muscles crap, the way his joints are getting sore. It’s worth it, he thinks, as he starts on the other calf. He shaves around the delicate bones of Scott’s ankle, thinks about pressing a kiss there, and more, up their leg to their knee to the inside of their thigh. 

His heart is pounding so hard, his chest aches. 

_Drag, rinse, drag, rinse.  
_

The second leg feels faster, like Stiles is rushing through it, but he’s not, he’s  _not_. He tries to slow down, savor it like the first one. His hand is still shaking. 

Scott’s fingers come down around his wrist, gentle and loose. It surprises Stiles so badly that he jumps, almost jerking away. When he looks at Scott’s face, their eyes are watering, tear tracks on their face. He didn’t realize –

“Are you okay?” he asks. It sounds panicked. He doesn’t mean to sound panicked, but it’s all building up inside of him. Scott knows, they have to know. Stiles is getting a boner shaving their legs, freaking out because he’s almost done and he doesn’t want to be done. They  _know_.

“Maybe,” Scott says, their voice is sticky. “Why is this so intense? This is so fucking intense.” A loud laugh breaks out of their throat, and Stiles can breathe again. 

“So fucking intense,” Stiles agrees, raising so he can drag Scott into a tight hug, mashing his face into their throat so he can just  _breathe_. They sob and hug him just as tightly, hands gripping his shirt. 

“It’s almost done,” they say, but they hold onto Stiles tighter, like they don’t want to let go.

“It is,” Stiles says, then in a whisper, “You look beautiful.” Scott whines, low in their throat, but doesn’t say anything. When they finally pull back, Stiles crouches again, steadies himself. He shoots Scott a quick smile before starting up again.

_Drag, rinse, drag, rinse._

When Stiles is done, Scott’s legs look amazing. He resists the urge to run his hands all over Scott’s skin. He knows he probably should, to check for missed spots, but it’s not something he can do clinically, so he skips it, rinsing the razor in the water and bathing Scott’s legs with water to get the soap off. 

He turns away from them when he stands, so they don’t get a face-full of his inappropriate boner. The bathroom is still echoing as the water goes. Stiles doesn’t expect Scott to move immediately, so he’s giving them time to process, pulling on his pants so he can leave. 

“Hey, you okay?” Stiles asks, once he’s all tucked in and decent. They’re just sitting at edge of the tub, staring at their legs, running their fingers over their skin. Over and over and over. 

“Yeah,” Scott says, with a sharp sniff. “I’m cool. Thank you.”

“Of course,” Stiles says, low and soft. He can’t help himself, he presses a kiss to their cheek, right over the glitter from the night before. “I’ll be outside, okay?”

“Yeah,” Scott says, then turns their head and presses a chaste kiss to Stiles’ lips. It’s warm and soft and there and gone in an instant. Stiles’ heart leaps in his throat, chokes the words out of him. “I love you, Stiles.”

Stiles draws back, just to breathe, watches Scott’s face, their sincere expression. 

“I love you too, Scottie.”

More than anything.

**Author's Note:**

> [reblog on tumblr](http://queerlyalex.tumblr.com/post/133999051652/sciles-shaving-for-sleepy-skittles-because)


End file.
